


Coda.

by rubyrosettared



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Drama, F/M, Gen, Recovering!Bucky, angsty, maybe a touch of romance, soul searching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-29
Updated: 2017-10-10
Packaged: 2019-01-06 21:25:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12219246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rubyrosettared/pseuds/rubyrosettared
Summary: A companion piece to 'There's Nobody Praying For Me'. Set five years later. Bucky is back in Washington and someone is on his mind so he decides to pay her a visit.





	1. One.

**Chapter One:**

_Coda: a conclusion, the ending of a story._

He’s quiet as the jet makes a text book landing. Doesn’t say a word as eventually they’re cleared to disembark. They leave the warm interior, emerging into the cooler night air and head down the steps onto the deserted landing strip. They’re all tired; needing to sleep and recuperate and they have the use of the Avengers complex in Washington to do so. Barring a catastrophe, they have a seven day furlough owed to them and they intend to collect.

Sam and Steve exchange a single look at Bucky’s silence. They should be used to it, he isn’t the most talkative of souls these days. Steve remembers a different story before the super serum, before the Winter Soldier. Back then James Buchanan Barnes could charm the birds from the trees with just a few honey sweet words, an easy smile and a twinkle in those blue grey eyes of his. Girls adored him in those days and he adored them right back, constantly falling in love, always convinced that _this_ girl was ‘the one’ for him. Then the Second World War happened and that easy going Romeo was replaced with the man he now knows; hollowed out and haunted. These days the smile doesn’t come as easily and the charm is sparse. So much has been stolen from him in the intervening years so they should be used to this, this monosyllabic existence but this deep silence is unusual, even for Bucky.

Right now he’s staring out of the rear passenger seat window of the SUV, looking out at the passing navy blue silhouetted cityscape on their way to the Washington complex but not really taking any of it in. Steve wishes he knew what was going through his friend’s mind right now.

“You okay Buck?” he asks anyway.

Bucky turns his head and looks at him, smiles faintly.

“Fine.” His voice is quiet. He turns his head back to look out of the window again and he’s lost him once more.

Then Steve remembers, it’s the first time he’s been back in Washington since the events of Project Insight, since Pierce died, since Alex Wells offered him a place of safety. Maybe it’s bringing back unhappy memories.

Or maybe he’s just tired.

* * *

 

It’s late when the complex comes into view, a building similar in design to the one in upstate New York, built on the same specs, just a little bit smaller in size. They’ve been informed that they have free run of the place for the next week, no one else is expected and they won’t be disturbed unless they’re called in. The atmosphere is heavy as the vehicle pulls up outside of the main door and one by one they disembark. Bucky stands still in the driveway, adjusting the weight of his backpack slung over one shoulder, his left hand gripping the handle of his overnight bag a little tighter and he looks up at the building. It’ll have all of the mod cons of this century, all kinds of technology, top of the range gym and pool, luxurious rooms. Nothing will have been overlooked or forgotten about.  He has a room at the New York complex so if this one is just the same as he’s been told, he’ll be familiar with the layout. 

They gain access, stepping into the airy lobby area and for a few moments the three of them stare about themselves, taking in their surroundings. The property is subtly lit, warm and welcoming. The kitchen will be fully stocked, the pool heated to the optimum temperature for when they want, Netflix cued up and ready alongside an infinite movie library and sports channels available at their fingertips.  They should be used to the luxury, that being a Stark property it will be top of the range but given that two of them are chronologically over a century old, it still has the ability to dumbfound.

“I don’t know about you guys but I’m beat, gonna hit the sack,” Sam tells them. Bucky remains in the foyer with Steve and looks up at the impossibly high ceilings, the glass and concrete walls, the sparse decoration and he then glances at his best friend.

“Night,” Steve calls after Sam and receives a wave as the other man heads away.

“I’m gonna try and get some sleep too,” Bucky adds and watches as Steve looks at him.

“It’s been a long day, you sure you don’t want to grab something to eat first?” Steve enquires and Bucky shakes his head, weariness pressing down on him. He wants to shower, decompress and hopefully sleep. The thought of food doesn’t appeal right now.

Steve tilts his head to one side as he regards him.

“You sure you’re okay pal? I know Washington brings back a few not so good memories for you…”

Bucky’s answering smile is faint.

“I’m fine, really and to be honest, while it wasn’t a walk in the park, not all of it was bad.”

Steve’s expression lightens slightly in understanding.

“You mean Alex? The doctor?”

Bucky just shrugs. He knows Steve and Sam went to see her a month after he’d left.

“You ever wonder whether she’s still there?”

“Sometimes,” Bucky confesses.

He ignores the voice at the back of his mind that taunts ‘ _How about pretty much all the damn time?’_

A voice that has steadily got louder and more intrusive since returning to Washington.

“Maybe you should call by the bar and find out?” Steve suggests with a smile and Bucky rolls his eyes at the idea.

“Why? It’s been five years, if she’s still there then she probably won’t even remember me,” he replies with a shake of his head. Truth is, he doesn’t know how he’d react if she isn’t there anymore.

“You won’t know unless you go,” Steve tells him with a shrug.

“I dunno if I want to,” he sighs. _Liar, his annoying inner voice continues,_ “Right now I just want to take a shower and get some sleep.”

Steve regards him knowingly before he quietly sighs.

“Okay Buck. Night.”

“G’night.”

* * *

 

The room that he’s chosen is massive, all the rooms at this place are the size of a warehouse. Apparently being an Avenger means needing lots of space. He still isn’t comfortable with that job description, he doesn’t feel like an Avenger or even a hero, right now he just feels exhausted. He drops his overnight bag and the backpack on the bottom of his bed and unzips them, taking out clean clothes, toiletries, another pair of shoes. He then takes out his latest notebook, almost brand new. He has a dozen more like this one, locked away at the New York complex, returned to him after the events of Bucharest, Berlin, Leipzig, Siberia. Wakanda. He has no doubt that they will have been read, examined and analysed, hoping to find deep secrets and plans for world domination when in truth all they hold are fragments; memories, thoughts, impressions and feelings about himself, people and his past such as it is. He holds this one in his hand and unhooks the elastic band that keeps the pages together and he slowly opens it. His writing isn’t so jagged in this book. The first two or three are chaotic, filled with his confusion, his disconnection and his fear. Trying to remember his life before Hydra, before the electro-shock, before the metal arm. It’s been difficult but parts of it has been slowly filtering back.

Steve has helped sometimes when Bucky has felt comfortable enough sharing the pages with him, confirming snatches of memories as fact, talking him through each one with a patience and understanding that Bucky finds gratifying. It all began when Bucky told him his mother’s name in that abandoned garage in Berlin.

_‘Which Bucky am I talkin’ to?’_

_Ignores the throb of pain at his temple as through the familiar static he sees blonde hair and blue eyes the colour of cornflowers. The memory makes him slowly smile._

_‘Your mom’s name was Sarah.’ Another memory, of a small skinny kid, all cheekbones, washed out pale skin and a head too big for his scrawny neck. Glances up at him, recognises the same kid but somewhat taller and more filled out. ‘You used to wear newspapers in your shoes.’_

Remembers the look on Steve’s face and feeling as if he’d passed an important test. He remembers Sarah Rogers’ kind blue eyes, her somewhat tired smile and the fact that she loved her only child fiercely and absolutely. In return during their stay in Wakanda, Steve told him that his mom was called Katherine, that she was of tough Irish ancestry, headstrong and not afraid to stand her ground for something she believed in and when she loved, she loved with completion and conviction. If Katherine Barnes liked you then you knew about it, if she didn’t, then you knew about that too. Steve also told him that she’s who he gets his blue eyes from, that the kids on the street used to tease him about it, calling him Bucky Blue Eyes which he always hated. He still can’t recall his mother’s face readily to his fractured memory but sometimes he hears a woman’s voice chastising him about feet on a couch and when he hears it he feels a flash of something akin to familiarity and affection but he wishes he could remember what she looked like more clearly. He wishes that he had a photograph or something to relate to. He huffs out a sigh and closes the book, looping back the elastic to keep it secure and drops it into his backpack. Maybe he’ll find some time tomorrow to write something down.

His whole body is shrouded with exhaustion, all he wants to do right at this moment is shower and sleep the clock around. He can’t remember the last time he did that, fall face down on the mattress and just fade away for that amount of time and wake up the next morning refreshed. He doesn’t remember if he ever did, maybe once upon a time. Right now it doesn’t feel like it.

Nightmares still have the tendency to plague his sleep. He’s become used to the exhaustion that’s taken up permanent residence behind his eyes.

* * *

 

The shower is hot, welcoming and as he stands, hands braced on the tiled wall in front of him beneath the jets feeling the hot water pummel the back of his neck and between his shoulder blades, his mind goes back to another shower in another place. This one over a white tub, his brain still scrambled, still recovering from the events of Project Insight, coming down from the benzos Pierce and his crew liked to pump him full of prior to each mind wipe. Remembers a girl with blonde hair, a kind smile and big blue eyes. Can’t and won’t forget even then the tiny source of peace she offered him. At his worst times since then he’s gone back in his mind to that, to that smile especially and taken a little bit of much needed comfort from it.

What he went through still gives him nightmares; he’s lost count how many times he’s woken up, sheets tangled around his legs, soaked with sweat, confused and terrified by the wraithlike images wrapped around his brain. How many times he’s come to in the opposite corner to his bed, with Steve in front of him, watching him with wary worried eyes. How many times has he gone back to sleep with his best friend folded up on a chair by his bedside? Too many to count.  He takes a breath and rinses off the soap that covers his body then switches off the jet, stepping out, reaching for a towel. He hates it when that happens, hates especially seeing the look in Steve’s eyes; sympathy, understanding and maybe sometimes even pity. He can maybe understand most of it but he can’t stomach the pity.

He sighs loudly, irritably. The more tired he is, the worse his introspection becomes. The more tired he is, the worse his damn nightmares become.

He wanders back into the bedroom, dries himself down, rubs a towel over his hair and contemplates cutting it again. He contemplates it often but so far has never carried it through. Pulls on a pair of shorts and climbs into bed, throwing all but one of the variety of pillows onto the floor, lies on his stomach and rests his head on just the one, curls his left arm around it and closes his eyes. He wills himself to relax, to soften his muscles, sigh out his tension and absorb the silence that slips over him and to allow himself drift off into slumber.

* * *

 

But sleep is frustratingly scarce despite his exhaustion; sometimes his brain just doesn’t know when to switch off fully and as a result he’s awake with the sunrise head foggy with half remembered dreams and pictures but he came to in his own bed and alone so that was a bonus.  He washes, brushes his teeth and dresses in jeans and a t-shirt and heads to the kitchen and makes himself a simple solitary breakfast of tea, toast and eggs. He balances the plate on one hand as he eats standing beside the sink, staring blankly at the vista being slowly revealed to him by the encroaching dawn and he listens to the quiet.

When Sam and Steve come downstairs a few hours later, they see the upside down cup on the drainer, the cleaned plate and fork beside it. Of Bucky there’s no sign.

“Where do you think he’s gone?” Sam asks Steve who stares at the flatware pensively.

“I don’t know for sure but I think I have an idea.”

“You gonna chase him up?”

Steve looks at him and sees his curiosity. “And do what? He’ll be fine, he’ll have his cell if we need to contact him.”

Sam rolls his eyes. “If he chooses to answer it maybe,” he grumbles. Steve just shrugs. Bucky can be contrary at times, choosing to ignore his phone if the mood takes him. There have been times when they’ve been on the verge of sending out a search party for him only to have him to return calmly claiming he just needed some head space, completely unperturbed by the Defcon One level of worry he’s caused them.

Steve also notices the tea cup on the drainer. This is a relatively new development with Bucky. In the old days, the blacker the coffee, the happier the man but now he’s noticed that he tends to drink tea once in a while, won’t really go into why, apart from telling him that he likes the taste. Perhaps it’s an unconscious connection to his mother but somehow he doesn’t think so. Since coming back into the fold he’s seen him during down times with a tea cup resting beside him as he quietly flipped through the pages of a book or a newspaper. It’s a rare moment of calm and contemplation for the Winter Soldier, a side to him that Steve rarely gets to see any more.

He flicks a look back at Sam.

“He’s on furlough, if he wants to unplug, literally, then let him. I think I know where he’s gone and if he’s not there, he’ll be back by night fall.”

“Old habits?”

Once more Steve shrugs but this time his smile is more enigmatic.

* * *

 

Bucky is standing outside of the building, staring up at the sign. It still has the same name, CeeGee’s after Callum Green, the guy who runs the place. He shoves his hands into the pockets of his jacket and quietly sighs, rocking back on his heels a little, contemplating whether to go on inside, see if she’s still there. Or has she moved on, it’s what people do over time, God knows he has.

He’s careful to stay out of the way, out of habit he stays out of sight. He’s not quite ready to see her and he doesn’t know how he’ll react if she shows up here unannounced. He might very well just walk away. As it is, nerves are using his stomach as their very own trampoline and that annoys him on a whole different level because he doesn’t get nervous, quiet maybe but never nervous.

He looks up at the sky, at the thick grey clouds that hover ominously. Looks like it’s going to rain. It was raining the day he first laid eyes on Alex looking down at him lying in the alley, exhausted and confused. He looks back at the front of the building and he contemplates going around to the rear exit instead. He can see people moving around inside. He watches them for a long moment before he takes a slow deep breath. He’s spent the morning just wandering around the city, pretending to be a tourist, trying to talk himself out of seeing her without success because while he’s here, he really wants to see her again even if it’s just once but he’s a little bit scared.

It’s close to noon, the lunch crowd will be appearing shortly. Perhaps he can wander in, take in the lie of the land and if she’s not there then he can turn around and walk out again. No harm, no foul.

“Damn it,” he whispers to himself and begins to head for the entrance, heart thumping in his chest so loudly that he’s sure everyone can hear it.

* * *

 

Apprehension snakes down his spine as he goes inside. The first thing he hears is the sound of the jukebox, playing something he still doesn’t recognise. He ignores it, feeling his heart still pulsing in his chest, eyes searching her out. What if she isn’t here anymore? What if she’s moved on and nobody knows where to? What will he do then?

He pulls off the ball cap he’s been wearing and pulls the fingers of his right hand through his hair as his eyes take in his surroundings, shoving the cap into his jacket pocket.

The interior is still the same, the same oval shaped bar in the centre of the large space, the same set up of tables and chairs dotted around it like satellites, a few of them occupied by customers. He sees someone come around the bar, in his direction and recognises Callum. He feels a flicker of relief that he’s still here at least, if she isn’t here, surely Callum will know where she is.  His resemblance to Steve, as he now realises, is marked. No wonder he’d mistaken him for his best friend five years ago only back then his glitch brain wasn’t sure. He keeps his hands in his pockets and slowly approaches the bar as Callum sees him and more importantly, recognises him. He sees his eyes widen in surprise.

“Bucky?” he breathes in astonishment as he watches him move closer to the bar. He then slowly shakes his head as if in disbelief.

“Well you’re a face I certainly didn’t expect to see again any time soon,” he comments once Bucky is within hearing range.

“Hey Callum,” he replies in a low voice. The other man slowly takes him in.

“You look good, a lot better than the last time,” he tells him. Bucky slowly shrugs.

“How are you doing? You wanna beer?”

Bucky’s eyes scan the array of bottles behind him.

“Single bourbon. Neat. No ice,” he replies and sees how Callum’s eyebrows rise marginally at his request. He’s learned a few things about himself in the intervening years. Namely that while he enjoys a beer or two when the mood suits him, his poison of choice is neat bourbon, the older the better. His eyes scan the faces as Callum gets him his drink and when he returns, he fishes a bill out of the front pocket of his jeans and passes it over to him.

“You’re looking for Alex.” It isn’t even a question.

“Is she…is she here?” All of a sudden he feels like a callow youth with his first crush; his throat feels dry and he finds it hard to get his words out. Callum regards him for a moment as he hands him his change. Bucky doesn’t even check it, just shoves it back into the front pocket of his jeans.

“Yeah, she’s here,” he answers. Bucky feels sweet relief flood through him.

“Is she busy?” It doesn’t occur to him til then that she might be helping someone who needs it. Callum just shakes his head.

“No, not with that. She’s around, probably in the kitchen if you want to head on through.”

Bucky pauses. “You sure?”

Callum shrugs. “Yeah. She’ll be glad to see you I think. Go on, you know the way.” He watches as Bucky downs his bourbon in one swallow and places the glass on the bar surface. Sees how he takes a step back, unconsciously straightens his spine and heads to the kitchen.

* * *

 

Bucky’s heart resumes its pounding as he heads into the kitchen area. Remembers sitting at the large table while she heated up some soup. He was so addled back then he barely remembered his name and in pain from a dislocated shoulder. Would she welcome seeing him again given how he left her?

She’s at the sink. His step falters for a moment as he’s presented with her back. She’s washing dishes of some description. Don’t they have a dishwasher here? They have machines for everything these days it seems.

“I know…I know… it’s gettin’ busy, just gimme another minute,” she calls, obviously hearing his footsteps.  For a moment he just drinks in the sight of her, unable to think coherently. He’s thought about her for so long, so often that now he’s actually here, he doesn’t know what to say to her without sounding like a complete idiot.

“Hey Alex.”

 


	2. Chapter Two.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex reacts to seeing Bucky again.

**Chapter Two:**

His voice is quiet, husky. He watches as Alex stops what she’s doing and for a moment she goes very still. He watches as she looks over her shoulder and her eyes widen when she recognises who has spoken to her.

“Bucky?” she whispers in disbelief. She turns more fully around and reaches for the dishtowel on the counter beside her and she wipes her hands, still staring at him in amazement, mouth dropping open. She then gives a little laugh “Oh my God, is it really you?”

“Yeah, it’s really me,” he replies. She walks rapidly towards him, dumping the towel behind her as she does. He remains still, nerve endings prickling, his heart still fluttering a little, watching as she deliberately slows down as she gets closer to him and then she stops a step away. He doesn’t know what to do, does he smile at her, does he not? Does he give in to the panic threatening to overwhelm him and turn tail and run out or does he stay still? One overriding thought that _does_ go through his mind is that she’s beautiful with her clear pale skin, light blonde hair and those intensely blue eyes. Has he always known that or was his brain so scrambled back then. He huffs out a tiny little annoyed sigh at the fact that his brain is throwing out all of these questions and he doesn’t know the answer to a single one of them.

Her eyes remain wide as she scans his face, takes him in. He resists the urge to shuffle his feet and instead meets her gaze straight on though he’s still not a hundred per cent sure what to do next or what she’s going to do next. He braces himself, for what he isn’t entirely sure; for her to throw herself into his arms or slap him across the face, either are feasible. The back of his neck prickles when he realises that he can’t read her expression, not past the disbelief that’s still there. Maybe he should just make his excuses and turn around and get the hell out of there.

Then she slowly, gently smiles and to him it’s like the sun emerging from behind a rain cloud and he feels something begin to settle inside of him at the warmth he sees in those eyes of hers.

“It’s so good to see you,” she tells him, her voice soft. Happy. “And you look well.”

He resists the urge to roll his eyes. So many people have said that to him.

“I’m…better,” he replies. He’s yet to believe that he’s completely well, if he ever will be.

“You look it,” she confirms.

A fainter smile comes and goes at her words.

“What are you doing here? Not that it’s good to see you again because it is…”

“I’m in Washington for a few days and I thought I’d call by on the off chance…” His words falter when he sees a frown begin to form. “Don’t worry, I’m not in any kinda trouble, I’m here… to… see you…” He closes his mouth and this time he does look away, down at his feet, swallowing against his traitorously dry throat. This is a lot tougher than he thought and not going how he imagined it to.

_How exactly did you picture this reunion happening, dumb ass?_  

Damn it he wishes just this once that he still had a touch of that old Bucky charm that Steve insists he used to have. Apparently _that_ Bucky loved the ladies and never had a problem getting a smile or even a date out of them but hearing it from Steve makes it feel like he’s talking about someone else and right now he wishes he could remember that side of him and borrow some of that charm back.

“Hey Bucky.” Her voice is soft, sounds warm and he chances a look at her face. She’s still smiling that easy, knowing smile. He’ll take that as a good sign.

“I know that I…left suddenly, without tellin’ you….” he begins, his voice still low, tone still halting. Still incredibly nervous at what this person thinks of him.

“You had your reasons.”

He lifts his head more fully and stares at her in surprise before comprehension dawns and his eyes widen a little more and then this time he sighs and he does roll his eyes.

“You know, don’t you? About my past, what I was?”

_Damn it._

A moment passes as she scans his face again and then finally she nods.

“I do. Whether you remember or not, you told me a little before you…left and afterwards I had a couple of visitors….”

“Steve and Sam?”

She looks at him in surprise before she nods.

“Yeah. They were looking for you. You know?” She watches as he nods this time before she continues. “Steve was worried and hoped I knew where you were. He was just a few weeks too late by then and I doubt you were ready to talk to him even though you were obviously starting to remember him.” She takes a ragged breath and carefully takes his right hand, sliding her fingers through his and she leads him to the large table. She sits down and he takes the seat closest to her. She still holds onto his hand, her skin feels warm against his. Her eyes fix on his face and they’re serious.

“He showed me your file, so I know about the Winter Soldier programme. I know what they did to you, or at least parts of it.” She looks into his eyes again and bites on her bottom lip for a moment as if deciding whether to do something. With her other hand she slowly lifts it and carefully touches his left cheek, pausing for a second as he gives a little start. She waits until he relaxes before she runs her thumb along the length of his cheekbone in a gentle caress. “I know what they did to you to keep you compliant. You told me some of it,” Her eyes soften with sympathy. “It all makes sense now.” Her voice is barely above a whisper.

He doesn’t speak, his brain has ceased to function or at least that’s what it feels like. He wants to lean into her touch. Instead he just enjoys the feel of her hand against his skin. Warm. Kind. He still has a little trouble sometimes gauging whether a touch is good or bad but hers is good, it’s very good.

“And you didn’t tell anyone?”

Alex shakes her head and Bucky just stares at her, wondering whether to believe her or not.

“And then we saw what happened in Europe; Vienna, Bucharest, Berlin. You were all over the news for days and then you vanished.”

Bucky sighs raggedly, remembering the whole messy business. Going from ghost to public enemy number one; one man’s mission to flush him out of hiding to make a point to the Avengers; to destroy them from the inside out, the damage which still affects them all to this day. A fragile truce is in operation, growing a little stronger day by day but the scar tissue that is there feels thick and awkward and unyielding at times but less so at others. It’s taken time for those wounds to begin to heal to a point where he feels comfortable with his newer circumstances, to feel somewhat okay with it. He knows that he hasn’t been forgiven for past deeds; he doesn’t expect to be and if he’s honest, doesn’t want to be.

He feels how her thumb gently strokes his cheekbone again and it makes him feel all kinds of shaky inside, a different kind of shaky, nothing to do with fear or anxiety.

“It doesn’t bother you, knowing what I was?”

“What Hydra made you into? No. That was beyond your control.”  She sees his faint frown and her eyes widen as a thought occurs to her, making her stop what she’s doing.

“You were expecting me to reject you?”

“To be honest, yeah.”

She takes a breath and gently shakes her head.

“That’s not what I’m about Bucky, I thought you understood that. Here is a place of safety, past histories don’t matter.”

He continues to watch her, not saying a word.

“You’re going to tell me that you did it anyway,” she begins and then she gives a little shake of her head. “Remember when Frankie drew the gun on me? You protected me, I know that without a doubt. It was automatic, instinctive and I don’t think you would have if you _were_ that person you thought you were, that bad guy. I could see then that you’re a protector. The only difference being that before all of this it was Steve you used to protect, before he got the super serum.”

She watches his expression change, become a little softer at her words.

“You’ve been to the exhibition at the Smithsonian?”

Alex nods just the once. “How could I not?” she murmurs and once more Bucky is lost for words. Silence drops between them but neither of them seem aware of it.

“Alex?” Another voice intrudes and she gives a blink and lowers her hand from Bucky’s face and looks across. It’s Connor.

“Lunch crowd is in, Callum needs all hands on deck, said sorry to interrupt your reunion. Hey Bucky,” Connor tells her when he looks at him over his shoulder. He smiles faintly in response and then watches him walk away. He returns his attention to Alex who is watching him once more. He wants her to touch him again. He’s a little surprised by how much he welcomed the brief contact and by how much he misses it right now.

“It’s so good to see you again Bucky,” she murmurs once more, her eyes scanning his face again. He’s gained some weight; is broader across the shoulders, the chest, his arms are more powerful, his thighs thicker. Still with the overlong dark hair framing that face and stubble though, not everything has changed.

“Can I?”

He frowns a little and then sees her raise both her arms. He just nods and feels her slide them around his neck. She leans forward slightly as she hugs him. Hesitantly he slides his arms around her waist and holds on. He feels the softness of her hair brush against his cheek, her body press up against his. His heart rattles in his chest for a second or two before he smiles softly to himself as eventually he relaxes into the embrace. She smells faintly of apples and he realises belatedly it must be her shampoo. Presently she lets go of him and he drops his arms from around her as she draws back. She looks into his eyes and she smiles again.

“Can you stay?” she asks. He slowly nods again and her eyes warm. She gets to her feet, wiping the palms of her hands against her thighs. He follows suit.

“It’s just for a couple of hours and I don’t want you to go anywhere, I want to hear what you’ve been up to since you were last here.” She pauses. “What you’re willing to talk about, anyway.” She reaches for his hand, threading her fingers through his again and gently leads him out of the kitchen and back to the bar.

* * *

 

It’s busier than before and instinctively Bucky’s eyes scan the room, sliding over the faces, unconsciously searching for any kind of a threat. He doesn’t have to do that anymore but he still looks, he still checks. Some habits are harder to break than others. He follows Alex to the bar as she leads him to a stool there. Callum comes around and he looks first to Alex and then to Bucky.

“Coffee?” he asks Bucky. He nods and Callum reaches below the bar and retrieves a white cup, placing it in front of him. Bucky watches as he then collects the three quarters full coffee pot and fills the cup almost to the brim. He smiles at him and then turns, replacing the pot and heading away to serve a customer.

Bucky sits at his spot and nurses his coffee and he watches Alex work. She hasn’t changed all that much in five years, except that her hair is longer, braided in a thick rope over one shoulder. He watches as she brings the various customers their lunch orders and their drinks, her smile never dimming even if the customer is being demanding or her feet are killing her, she continues to smile. He still doesn’t know how she does it.

“Bucky?” a voice behind him breathes and for a brief second he freezes. The back of his neck prickles. The voice is female. Slowly he swivels in his seat and his eyes widen when he recognises the owner of the voice.

“Mary?” he whispers in disbelief.

 


	3. Chapter Three.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky catches up with Alex and makes a bold pronouncement.

**Chapter Three:**

“Hey you,” she murmurs. Bucky slides off his stool and faces her. Tiny, scared Mary with the choppy brown hair and the perceptive hazel green eyes. The one who told him she recognised a broken soul when she saw one, a phrase that has stayed with him ever since. Only this time she’s different, she _looks_ different. It’s as though a light burns within her; her eyes gleam, her hair is longer, dropping to her shoulders in a shiny flip. There’s a confidence about her that wasn’t present the first time he saw her. She’s also massively pregnant, like about to pop pregnant. For a moment he can’t speak. Her eyes shine and before he can utter a word, she throws herself as close to him as she can get and wraps her arms around his waist. He gives a quiet grunt of surprise at the onslaught, feeling her belly press against his, something thud against it which makes him frown a little. Carefully he wraps his arms around her shoulders and returns the hug as best he can. She then let’s go of him and looks up at him. He’s forgotten just how tiny she is, barely reaches his shoulder.

“Wow…I...” he stutters and sees how she looks down at her belly.

“Yep. Due in about ten days. Me and Connor,” she tells him, her mega-watt smile never diminishing and Bucky blinks again, the new information coming thick and fast.

“You and Connor…I didn’t…know…” He sees Connor come from behind the bar and approach her and scoop her up into a hug. He then looks at Bucky and grins.

“Been married two years now,” he tells him proudly. Bucky takes them in and gives his head a slow shake.

“Um….congratulations?” he replies, turning his head when he sees Callum approaching them.

“Mary, what are you doing here? You need to sit down. C’mon now…” He indicates the vacant stool beside Bucky’s. Bucky offers her his hand as she manages to get onto it. He slowly resumes his own seat, watching as she turns to face him. Connor slides in behind her, watching them both.

“You look better,” she tells him, squeezing the hand she still has a hold of. Bucky smiles slowly, softly.

“Because I am,” he answers honestly.

“I can see. Those eyes of yours, that soul doesn’t look so broken now.”

Bucky doesn’t know what to say to that so says nothing. Maybe not so much broken these days as badly cracked.

“Does Alex know that you’re here?”

Bucky just nods. Mary smiles at him.

“We didn’t think we’d ever see you again. I wanted to say thank you, for protecting Alex the way you did back then. From what Connor told me, it was pretty bad ass.”

Once more Bucky doesn’t reply. To be honest, he still doesn’t really remember what happened; he recalls seeing the gun and then the next moment Frankie was on the ground, bruised and bloody with the weapon pointed at the middle of his forehead. He wonders what happened to him. He gives a blink as if banishing the memory and instead focuses on Mary. Offers her the gentlest of smiles.

“It’s good to see you happy,” he tells her and he means it. He watches another smile bloom across her face. He still can barely believe that this is the woman who would only speak to him when Alex was present, who spoke to him all of twice. Sees how she looks over her shoulder at Connor, still smiling. Happy. In love. How it should be. Ignores the clench of whatever it is taking hold in his chest. Won’t give it a name.

“I am. Everything is wonderful. I didn’t expect to ever feel like this again, I didn’t expect to feel anything ever again.” She looks back at him.

“How about you?” she asks and for a second his brain scrambles for purchase, wondering how to answer a question he didn’t know the solution to.

“I’m…getting there… I guess.”

“No girl on the horizon? Or boy perhaps?”

His eyes widen and he shakes his head. He sees Alex cross his line of vision and watches her for a second before looking into Mary’s eyes again. Doubts there ever will be, not with his history. Isn’t really in any position to look never mind offer anyone anything but it didn’t mean that he wasn’t just a little bit curious about it all. 

“But you’re okay?”

Bucky shrugs. “As I’ll ever be I guess,” he confesses.

 

He turns his head and sees Alex approaching. Her hands are empty, no more food or drinks orders and there’s a smile on her face as he watches her approach him. She always seems to be smiling, at least to him. He then notices that the bar has emptied out a little, it would seem that the lunch rush is over with for now.

“I see you found our prodigal,” Alex comments to Mary as she comes to stand beside him.

“I did,” Mary confirms. Bucky sees how the two women smile at each other before Alex looks at him.

“And who got the biggest surprise, I wonder?” she continues. Bucky looks at Mary for a moment and he feels himself begin to smile. He looks back at Alex.

“I think that would be me,” he confirms.

“You’re still gonna be with me when I go into labour aren’t you?” Mary asks her. Bucky sees how Alex widens her eyes as she approaches her and slides an arm across her shoulder and hugs her up against her for a moment.

“Of course I am, I wouldn’t miss the birth of my honorary niece or nephew for the world. I’m honoured you asked me.”

“Apart from Connor, I don’t think there’s anyone I’d want more to be with me,” Mary answers. Bucky watches the two women embrace again before Alex returns her attention to him.

“I’m done for the afternoon, you want to come upstairs? It’s quieter than down here.”

Bucky just nods. His nerves are jangling a little. Today has been a doozy on his emotions and his social skills are still very much on the rusty side. He looks at Mary again and can see her contentment glowing from her, almost like an aura and something softens inside of him.

“It’s good to see you again Mary.”

“You too Bucky,” she murmurs in response and reaches out her arms and slides them around his neck and she hugs him again. He stiffens for a brief second before allowing himself to relax into the embrace. Reminds himself that sometimes a touch or an embrace isn’t always bad but he doesn’t think he’ll ever be free of that first shiver of apprehension that dances along his skin with each one.

* * *

 

Alex can’t believe that Bucky is here, that he came back. She thought for sure that he wouldn’t, that he’d forever remain a memory.

Hope made her believe that she imagined his voice saying hello to her in the kitchen. Wishful thinking made her believe she was hallucinating when she saw him standing beside the table, eyes filled with trepidation, his body trembling very slightly with nerves.

Did he think that she’d forget him after five years? She never has and she never will. As short as his stay with her was, his presence is ingrained in her memories, vivid as if it was just yesterday that he left.

Her heart is thumping as she climbs the stairs to her apartment, ever aware that he’s closely following her, so close that if she reaches out she’ll touch him. He waits beside her as she unlocks the door and goes inside. She watches him as his eyes take in his surroundings as he steps over the threshold. Turns his head and looks at her as she closes the door behind them.

“It doesn’t look like it’s changed very much,” he comments. She smiles softly.

“Painted the walls a different colour, everything was plain white and oak flooring when you were here,” she tells him, dropping her keys onto the mantelpiece of the empty fireplace that’s opposite her bed. She slowly turns to look at him. He hasn’t moved an inch.

“Come on through. You hungry? I could fix you something to eat?” She heads into the kitchen and hears him follow her.

“You don’t have to keep feeding me, Alex,” he gently chides and sees how her cheeks pink up a little. She offers a restless shrug.

“Sorry, it’s a habit. I’m going to make a sandwich if you want to join me?” she invites and watches him approach her.

“Sure but let me help. Show me what I can do,” he replies. Sees her eyes widen slightly in surprise.

“Really?”

It’s Bucky’s turn to shrug.

“I don’t expect you to wait on me Alex not when you’ve spent the past couple of hours waitin’ on other folk. I’m capable of helping, I’m not that scrambled machine you scooped up off the ground five years ago,” he tells her and she just regards him.

“Yeah. I can see that.”

It’s his eyes. Five years ago they were blank, empty and confused. Now…she stares into them, taking in their amazing shade of slate blue, now they’re warmer, a little bit more confident, a little more assured, more present. She takes a quiet and slow deep breath, feeling the air fill her lungs. Then she smiles again.

“Okay…let’s get started.”

Sees how he smiles and begins to shrug off his jacket.

* * *

 

He realises that he’s starving as together they sit at the counter and eat. For a little while neither of them speak. They’ve prepared a simple snack of sandwiches with an accompaniment of potato chips and tea. He refused the offer of soda or coffee, settling for tea and it makes her heart tremble a little as she remembers the somewhat shyly spoken request for the tea.

Alex can hardly take her eyes off him, watching as he enjoys his food. There isn’t another way to describe it. He still reacts the same way while he’s eating; with curiosity and bliss. His jacket rests on the opposite counter, the glove that covers his left hand on top of it. His left arm and hand gleam in the dull light. He lifts his eyes and they still on her face and they widen slightly when he realises that she’s openly observing him.

“What?” he asks and sees her begin to blush at being caught staring. “Did I spill somethin’?”  He briefly glances down at his t-shirt before he looks back at her, puzzled. His eyes then widen a little more as she leans towards him and she lifts a hand and he goes still as she gently grasps his chin and with her thumb swipes at the corner of his mouth.

His heart picks up at double pace at the touch, his mouth going dry. He stops chewing and he stares into her eyes almost transfixed. After a moment she releases her hold on him and shows him her thumb which holds a smear of mustard.

“Oh God,” he mutters, all of a sudden hideously embarrassed, lifting a hand to swipe at the corner of his mouth and her smile widens as she pops her thumb into her mouth and sucks the mustard free. He stares at that thumb as it disappears into her mouth and the embarrassment metamorphoses into something else, something completely different. He takes a deep breath, swallows what he’s eating and reaches for his tea instead.

_Well God, what a way to find out that his hormones and a certain part of his anatomy are in completely healthy working order._

She watches how he looks away, the colour rising in his cheeks and she smiles softly to herself, returning her attention to her lunch.

* * *

 

Once they’ve finished their food, Bucky collects their plates and takes them to the sink. Alex remains seated and watches as he carefully rinses them and places them on the drainer. He turns to go back to his seat and then pauses when he sees her watching him again.

“What? Did I do something wrong?” he asks and sees her slowly shake her head.

“This new Bucky just takes a little bit getting used to that’s all. Though, can I ask what is probably a very stupid question?”

His eyes are a little wide but he nods.

“Your left arm and hand when they’ve been in water…do they ever get….”

She watches him glance down at it, turn his hand over so it’s palm up. The metal glints and gleams in the light. She watches as he closes it into a loose fist and then uncurls it again, the movement natural and graceful.

He looks back at her and offers a faint smile and then a quiet chuckle.  “Rusty? No,” he answers at her nod.

“Why?”

“Because it’s made of vibranium, newer model. Doesn’t rust. Never did.”

She watches him roll up the sleeve of his t-shirt further upwards and it’s then she notices that the red star is missing. She watches the plates silently move and shift as he rotates the limb.

“What happened to the older model?” she enquires, lifting her eyes to his face as he rolls down the sleeve.

_A feeling of pure rage consumes him. Wants to crush the helmet of the Iron Man suit into dust along with the man occupying it. Hears the revving of the cybernetics as he screams out his fury and pushes with all of his considerable strength, the metal fingers of his left hand digging into the arc reactor built into the chest of the suit, determined to rip it out and destroy it. Hears the screech and groan of collapsing metal as he grinds the helmet further into the concrete wall. Then he’s blinded by a beam of bright light and a blast of white hot energy that drives him across the room and down onto his knees. He stares in dumbfounded horror at the wreckage of where his left arm used to be._

Bucky looks at her.

“I guess it outlived it’s purpose.”

Alex stares at it and then at him wide eyed for a second before giving her head a quick shake.

“C’mon, bring your tea through here and we can talk somewhere a little bit more comfortable than the kitchen,” she invites, getting to her feet, scooping her cup off the counter top. He watches as she slowly heads out of the room and heads towards her living area. He pauses for a second, gulps in a breath, picks up his cup along with his jacket and glove and then follows.

* * *

 

“Don’t you have to go back downstairs?” he asks as he sits down on the couch beside her.

“I’m the boss, remember. Unless it gets really busy, I’m okay. I want to hear about you, how you are.” Her voice is warm and interested and he looks at her and exhales quietly before lifting his cup and taking a sip of his tea instead.

She tilts her head to one side as she regards him.

“Is it really so hard to talk about?”

Lifts his eyes to her face and then lowers the cup, swiping a tongue across his lower lip, debating whether to reply or not.

“Is what so hard?” he hedges instead and sees her roll her eyes.

“Well there’s my answer I guess. I’m not asking for chapter and verse Bucky, just what you’re comfortable in sharing, if anything.”

He holds her gaze for a longer moment, contemplating it.

“I’m not lyin’ when I say I’m better. I am but I don’t know if I’ll ever be completely…whole again,” he slowly confesses.

Alex regards him, nursing her own tea cup and he watches her, wondering what’s going through her mind.

“It’s to be expected Bucky. What you went through, what you endured…you’ll never be that guy again, the one before all of this started, the ordinary soldier.”

She sees how he frowns at this, looking away, staring into space for a moment.

“I don’t really remember him anymore. I get flashes of someone, feelings for people and places. I went to the exhibition to see if it would shake anythin’ loose.”

“And did it?”

He just shakes his head, glances at her again. “Not really.”

“What do you do when you get these feelings and memories?” she asks him and sees a faint smile cross his face.

“I write them down.” Sees the look of surprise on her face at his confession. “What you told me, about how you coped, I decided to try for myself.”

“And it works for you?”

He thinks back to the dozen or so notebooks he’s filled in the intervening years.

Nods.

“Yeah. It does.”

“You share them with anyone?”

“Just with Steve sometimes. Where he can he tells me if they’re actual memories or just…”

“Glitches.”

He nods once more, his eyes flicking away from hers. Thinks back to a conversation over tea, about a pink and white teacup and he looks back at her.

“He told me that my mother’s name was Katherine.” Sees how her eyes light up, feels the velocity of the accompanying smile smack him square in the chest.

“Katherine,” she murmurs almost to herself.

“I still don’t really remember what she looks like, a lot of it is impressions. Sometimes I hear a voice that I think is hers or smell a perfume that I think she wore.” He shrugs restlessly. She regards him with a modicum of sympathy.

“And there aren’t any photographs in existence?” she asks and those blue grey eyes lock onto hers once more.

“I don’t know. Maybe. It’s not like I can ask,” he murmurs. She regards him. He’s been missing, presumed dead for over seventy years, would he _have_ any family left?

“What did Steve tell you about her?”

She watches a faint smile drift across his face for a second before it’s replaced by a deeper frown.

“She was strong and very protective, not afraid to speak her mind or stand her ground and if she liked you or even if she didn’t then nothing changed her mind.” His gaze lifts to Alex’s face. “And apparently she’s where I get my blue eyes from,” he confides. He watches her smile widen for a moment.

“Sounds like someone not to mess with. I don’t really remember my mom or dad either. They died when Gabe and I were little, light aircraft crash, my dad was into aviation, piloted planes, liked to take my mom out for a spin once in a while and one time he did, they didn’t make it back.”

Bucky stares at her in surprise. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs and her responding smile is quick, automatic.

“We lived with my grandparents, my dad’s parents but Gabe and I clung to each other for the longest time afterwards. No one could get between us though plenty tried, including my grandmother.”

It doesn’t escape Bucky’s attention that her voice drops a couple of degrees at the mention of her grandmother.

Anything he’s about to say is interrupted by the buzzing of a phone. It takes him a moment to realise that it’s his phone and he sends her an apologetic look as he pulls it out of the front pocket of his jeans. He glances at the screen and rolls his eyes before answering it.

“Hey, you’re not checkin’ up on me are you?” he asks the person on the other end of the line.

Alex watches his expression change, a frown begin to emerge.

“I thought we were on furlough for seven days...Oh…okay. I can be back in less than an hour. Yeah, I’m sure they are. Yeah I’ll be there I promise.” He sighs and disconnects and the look he sends her is both rueful and slightly irritated.

“I gotta go. Work…” he sighs out. Alex watches as he begins to get to his feet and she follows suit. She takes his cup from him.

“I thought you said you had a few days off?” she enquires as she watches him shrug his jacket on, slide the glove over his metal hand. He pushes his phone back into the front pocket of his jeans.

“And I did and I do…but sometimes we’re called in on an emergency mission like now. Hopefully it won’t take too long because I’m comin’ back.” He fixes her with a look at his bold statement. “I’d like to come back and see you,” he continues and sees how she looks at him, how she absorbs his words.

“You’re always welcome here Bucky, you know that,” she replies softly. He regards her for a moment.

“That’s not what I meant…exactly,” he confesses and feels his heart thump in his chest, that newfound boldness quickly disappearing. Sees how her expression changes slightly, her eyes begin to widen and knows that she understands his meaning completely. Then she nods and he sees her cheeks turn pink.

“Oh…okay…that would be nice…” she answers, stumbling clumsily over her words. Bucky frowns.

_Nice?_

“Have I overstepped?” he asks gently and her eyes fly to his face. She shakes her head and promptly looks away and Bucky gets the distinct feeling that he has somehow. He feels himself grow cold and awful embarrassment begins to invade.

“Y’know, I’d better get goin’, I promised Steve I’d be back in an hour…” He begins to head for the front door, eager all of a sudden to put some distance between them.

“Bucky.” Her voice is gentle and he pauses as he begins to reach for the door knob and sees her come to stand in front of him. His hand lowers as she looks at him and this time she smiles and it’s all kinds of soft and sweet.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to give you the impression that you’d overstepped or anything like that. You didn’t. It’s just…” Her words falter and he sees colour rush to her cheeks. “It’s been a long time since anyone…”

“Declared their intentions?” Bucky fills in.

She lifts her eyes to his face and she just nods.

He sighs raggedly, badly needing to leave so he can begin to forget this ever happened. He then freezes when she moves closer to him and he remains absolutely still, he doesn’t even think he’s breathing. Every sense goes on high alert as she leans in slightly and presses a soft kiss on his cheek, he feels the pressure of her lips against the stubble he hasn’t got around to shaving off just yet. Then she draws back and looks into his eyes before she presses another on his mouth, one of her hands resting against his chest. His eyes slide shut as he feels what he can only describe as tiny pulses of static shoot through his nervous system, prickling through him, firing up his brain cells. The first feeling he’s truly aware of is of mild panic, it flows through him as he clenches his hands into fists. He tries to concentrate on how she makes him feel; the gentle pressure of her mouth against his own; simple, tender, non-threatening, both of her hands flat against his chest but his mind feels as though it’s about to backfire, the adrenaline surging through him sending all kinds of red alert messages to his brain.

_Too much….it’s too much._

She draws back once more and she continues to look at him as if she’s gauging how he might be feeling.

_Overwhelmed might be a good place to start_.

His heart rate has increased to a steady pound as he looks into her blue eyes. He can barely draw oxygen deep enough into his lungs but he reaches for her, his right hand folding around her waist. He pulls her up against him and before she can say or do anything, he presses his mouth against hers and holds her close, feels her arms wrap themselves around his neck and she presses herself up against him. For a moment he’s still, feeling her, experiencing her, absorbing her, not moving, unable to. Warmth. Welcoming. Feels those momentary sensations of panic begin to fade as he begins to remember. He slowly, gently nibbles his way through her lips, deepening the kiss, his other arm sliding around her waist and holding her steady. Hears her ragged sigh, feels the quickened throb of her heart against his own before he pulls back. Stares at her, brain still not completely functional because every sensation is centred elsewhere and it scares him just a little. That he’s still capable of feeling like that about someone and that it’s been so long since he has confounds him a little. Watches how she seems to slowly blink as if coming back down to earth before she looks into his eyes once more. Her lips are pink, as is a patch of skin near to her chin.

“You better come back,” she whispers to him and slowly, carefully he releases his hold on her. Isn’t really able to offer a rational response right now.

“Give me your phone,” she tells him as if recognising his inability to currently process what she’s said and wordlessly he does exactly that. Watches her open up the screen, press an app and then key something in. Presently she returns it to him.

“My number,” she informs him as he looks down at the screen. He then looks back at her.

“I’ll give you mine.” He goes to return the phone to her but she shakes her head.

“You need to get going. Just send me a text and I’ll get your number from it,” she tells him and he nods as he pockets his phone once more. Stares at her for a few seconds longer, still absorbing what’s happened between them.

“I’ll be in touch when I’m back,” he tells her and she just nods. His movements are a little jerky, a little shaky as he reaches for the door once more and opens it. He looks back at her once more before he’s gone.

* * *

 

He’s still thinking about her as he enters the complex, sees both Sam and Steve in the lobby area, ready to ship out.

“Hey, I was about to send out a search party,” Steve begins, smiling at his friend.

Bucky just regards him.

“I’m here aren’t I? How long is this thing gonna take?” he retorts somewhat testily.

“Coupla days tops according to Natasha. Why? Did I interrupt somethin?” Steve responds more carefully this time.

Bucky quickly shakes his head.

“I’ll be ready in a few minutes, don’t leave without me,” he tells him and both men watch him stride away. Sam watches Bucky until he’s out of sight before he looks back at Steve, eyes widening with speculation.

“Oh I think you interrupted somethin’,” he declares. Sees the faint look of unhappiness on Steve’s face.

“I know I did. Maybe I shouldn’t have called, left him alone.”

“And maybe if we didn’t need his particular skill set you would have but you do and he’s here. Whatever it is, he’ll get over it.”

Steve continues to frown.

“It’s a girl Sam. He’s been to see Alex, the doc.”

“Gabe’s sister? How do you know?” Sam’s voice rises in surprise and Steve slowly exhales.

“I don’t but we’re in Washington. Alex lives in Washington.”

Sam widens his eyes once more.

“Oh, so you think that’s where he went this morning? You think he’s sweet on her. He hasn’t seen her in over five years so how can he all of a sudden be sweet on someone he knew for barely five minutes when his brain was still almost completely scrambled? He could hardly remember his own name back then.”

“I didn’t say he was sweet on her Sam but I’ll bet my last dollar that he’s been to see her today.”

Steve sees the gleam that brightens Sam’s eyes at this information. Recognises the potential mischief.

“Man, I could have some _serious_ fun with this!” Sam murmurs with barely withheld glee.

Steve sighs once more, shakes his head.

“Wouldn’t be a good idea Sam, you saw how quiet he was last night.”

A roll of Sam’s eyes at the possibility of his fun being spoiled.

“That’s his default setting.”

“It didn’t always used to be. Believe it or not, once upon a time he was a big hit with women, falling in love every five minutes with a different girl. When I think about what could’ve happened if we’d made it back home after the War, that’s what I think about the most. Out of everything that he lost, it’s any kind of future he could’ve had with a girl.” His expression becomes dark and somewhat distant for a moment before he looks back at Sam.

“I think once this mission is over, he’ll be coming back here, to her.”

“Is that a good idea?”

“Even if it was five years ago, he made a connection to someone, to _her_. Whatever it is, it’s taken him this long to decide whether he wanted to see her again or not. Are you gonna be the one to tell him it’s a bad idea because he will have told himself that over and over. He knows.”

“This could be a disaster waiting to happen,” Sam warns him and Steve sighs and then frowns again in response.

“Or it may not be. We shouldn’t interfere, he won’t thank us for it.”

“Since when has that stopped you?” Sam quips and watches Steve’s expression clear and he smiles.

“This time I mean it.”

“Heard that one before too.”

              

 


	4. Chapter Four.

**Chapter Four:**

Their mission was straightforward and completed without complication. A couple of nights away from the complex tops just as Natasha had said.

They’ve been back three days now.

Bucky still hasn’t called Alex. Instead he stares at his phone when he thinks no one is paying attention to him and has second thoughts as well as third and fourth and very likely fifth ones too. Tells himself to call her or even just to send her a damned text, to make contact. It’s not that hard to do, hell he was the one who did that the first time by showing up at the bar like he did. What’s so hard about this time?

Because this time he’s more nervous. This time there was a kiss involved and damn it, there’s that word again; _nervous_. She makes him a little edgy and he hates it. He’s never nervous, _never_ , preferring to block the emotion behind a solid wall and just move onwards, use it to his advantage and call it something else but this time he can’t escape from the realisation that he is nervous as hell and it’s Alex who makes him feel this way.

So he’s spent these three days talking himself out of calling her, from making contact even though every fibre of his being wants to see her and talk to her again.  He keeps finding excuses not to; his past, his history, the nightmares, his job. What if he hurts her? What if he doesn’t measure up to her expectations because he knows that she’ll have some. He’s tied up in knots and almost paralysed with nerves.

_What if she’s just being polite?_

_But she kissed you first._

_God, since when did you turn into a teenage boy?_

_Since Alex Wells kissed you, idiot._

He hasn’t been able to get that kiss out of his mind since. How it felt, how it made him feel, how she felt in his arms, smelled, tasted, it tumbles around and around inside of his head.

He sighs.

Perhaps the safest and best thing to do right now is to walk away before anyone gets hurt, before any real harm is done.

“Hey.”

Bucky flinches, lifts his head and sees Steve lower himself down onto the leather sofa beside him.

“Who’s winning that argument you’re having inside of your head?” he asks.

“Hey,” Bucky murmurs and leans back and pockets his phone again “And no one. No argument.”

Steve observes him silently.

“What?” Bucky demands, his tone razor sharp.

For a moment Steve still doesn’t answer. “You gonna call her or what?” he then asks.

“Call who?”

Eye roll.

“Alex.”

The look Bucky sends him is dark, cautionary, a very plain warning of _mind_ _your own business_.

“Because that’s who you were with when I had to call you in earlier in the week and it’s why you’ve been staring at your phone like it’s gonna blow up in your hand ever since.”

“You don’t know what you’re talkin’ about,” Bucky scoffs, shaking his head, beginning to get to his feet, wanting to move away from this topic of conversation literally as well as metaphorically.

“Maybe I don’t but the guy I knew wouldn’t let the grass grow under his feet, not for someone like Alex.”

Irritation flares.

“Yeah well newsflash Steve, I’m _not_ the guy you used to know anymore.”

“I know. I miss him sometimes.”

Bucky freezes at the starkly spoken confession and looks at him once more. For a moment his thoughts empty and he sits back down again.

“I wish I could remember him,” he then whispers and hears Steve’s quiet, somewhat ragged sigh.

“He’s in there Buck, deep down. I keep catchin’ glimpses of him beneath the surface and there are times when I think, there he is, there’s my buddy but then he’s gone again.”

“And you’re left with me,” Bucky finishes and Steve hears the bitterness in his voice. Swallows against it.

“That’s not what I meant. You’re here and you’re under no one’s control any more. I know it’s not gonna be like it used to be, I’m not that stupid but you’re here, you’re alive.” He reaches across and grips his shoulder in that familiar somewhat affectionate manner of his. Bucky looks across at him, sees the sincerity in his eyes.

“And anyway, you obviously like her, your Alex so you should get in touch with her, see where it goes.” He lowers his hand when he hears his friend sigh loudly.

“She’s not mine, she’s not my anythin’ and where it _goes_? I’m a basket case Steve, with more than a few bolts loose inside of my head. What kinda prospect does that make me for anyone?” His voice becomes sharp again as he taps the side of his head.

“Maybe we’re both just better off not getting…involved,” he mutters with a frown.

“And if you believed that then you wouldn’t be agonising over it,” Steve reminds him.

“And maybe just once you should mind your own goddamn business,” Bucky retorts, this time getting to his feet and striding out of the room.

* * *

 

“I gotta do somethin’ Sam,” Steve sighs in discontent as he hands him a bottle of water.

“What you _gotta_ do is mind your own business like he asked,” Sam responds, taking it from him and unscrewing the top. Watches his friend take a drink of his own.

Steve lowers the bottle and sighs in discontent. They’re in the gym which is on the floor above an Olympic sized swimming pool. A floor to ceiling window separates both places and he looks down at the sole occupant who cuts through the azure blue water with ease, without slowing down. Bucky. He’s been swimming for the past forty five minutes, lap after lap, showing no signs of stopping. Steve watches him as he reaches the end of one lap and then turn, pushing away from the side with his feet and propelling himself back the way he came, almost completing half a lap underwater before surfacing. Doesn’t break rhythm, doesn’t stop. Remembers that he was a strong swimmer, an all-star athlete back in the day, before everything that’s happened. One of the benefits of super soldier serum now, you just don’t know when to quit.

He then glances back at Sam.

“I can’t,” he confesses and then takes another drink. Looks back as Bucky completes yet another lap.

“Has he even come up for air yet?” Sam mutters, watching him swim. He then turns his head and looks at Steve. “So what are you gonna do?”

“Go and see Alex. Talk to her, or at least try. She might not want to listen.”

“You do realise that if Bucky finds out he’s not gonna be happy. I’m also gonna remind you that as a former assassin, murder is his business and he’s damned good at it. He might not say a hell of a lot but even I don’t enjoy being on his bad side.”

Steve grins and then gives his head a quick shake. “I’ll keep your name out of it.”

“He’ll know anyway, by association. I guess I better start sleepin’ with one eye open.”

“You think it’s a bad idea?”

Sam just shrugs.

“You said you weren’t gonna get involved and here you are, gettin’ involved.”

* * *

 

He sits on a wooden bench beneath the shade of a cherry tree in the grounds of the complex and can feel the gentle warmth of the spring sunshine caress his skin. He tips his face up to it and just absorbs it, listens to the gentle breeze that trickles through the branches, the peaceful shush of new leaves fluttering and dancing and he closes his eyes and smiles gently to himself. He enjoys the quiet these days, absorbing Mother Nature in all her glory, being able to appreciate it and the rare peace of mind it brings him.

He opens his eyes when he hears the distant sound of a door opening and then closing and wonders who’s going to sit with him now. He’s spent time with both Steve and Sam since their return from their second mission whether he’s wanted to or not. His gaze focuses on the figure heading his way. He frowns slightly as she gets closer, his eyesight not so bad that he can’t see that it’s a she. She’s wearing black; jeans and t-shirt and as she gets closer, a leather biker jacket. She’s almost a smudge against all of the greenery. Long blonde hair, unbound, caught by the wind, floating and flying on the air for a moment, teased by the gentle breeze and he watches her lift a hand to brush it out of her face. _Alex._ He doesn’t speak, just waits for her to approach him. There’s no expression on her face as she lowers herself down onto the bench beside him. He stares at her, briefly gobsmacked by her appearance. Wonders for a single second whether he’s hallucinating. How did she know where he was? He then looks back at the main complex and sees the familiar outline of someone standing by one of the large picture windows that offers a view of where he’s currently sitting and he understands.

Steve. Of course.

 _God damn him_.

“You said you’d call,” she begins, her tone neutral, not looking at him, hands folded on her lap. He turns his head and he looks at her once more.

“I’d ask how you found this place but I have a feeling you had an accomplice.”

She glances at him.

_Sees Steve standing at the door as she goes to lock it for the night, his hands shoved into the front pockets of his jeans, eyes hopeful._

_“Can we talk?” he asks, voice muffled a little from the door that separates them and she chews her bottom lip as she stares at him for the longest moment. Here’s the confirmation that she feared; that Bucky is back from the mission and that he’s changed his mind about seeing her again. That she scared him off with that kiss. If that was the case, then why send Steve to do his dirty work, she didn’t think he was the type to stoop to that kind of behaviour. Steve seems to sense her hesitation because he takes a step closer to the door, filling the space with his presence._

_“Please Alex?”_

_She relents, unlocks the door and opens it and she lets him inside. Tall, blond, muscular, Captain America stands in her bar once more._

_“Make it quick, it’s late.” Deliberately keeps her tone short and to the point even though her heart is pounding and her mouth is uncharacteristically dry._

_Makes him coffee in the kitchen, watches him sit at the table. Almost a repeat of their first meeting five years before. She places the white mug in front of him and hears him murmur his thanks. She sits down beside him and she waits for him to explain._

“I did and for what it’s worth, he got in contact with me, not the other way around. I don’t have his number or yours. _You_ didn’t text.”

“Still getting used to twenty first century technology.”

“And that’s bullshit Barnes and you know it.”  There’s no acid or rancour in her voice, just absolute calm conviction and it makes him frown slightly.

“Is it?”

“You know it is. You’re scared, I get it.”

“Do you? What is it that you think I’m scared of?”

“Kissing me again.”

 _Well damn it, there it is in a nut shell._ Bucky can’t help thinking.

This time she turns in her seat to face him full on.

“You’re having second thoughts aren’t you? It’s been such a long time for you and I get it, I do. You spent seventy years under the control of Hydra as an assassin, seven whole decades where you were tortured, brainwashed, hurt and abused by those around you who turned out to be completely horrific examples of humanity. You got used to any and all contact ending in pain of some kind, physical and emotional because it was used against you to control you and make you into that…machine.” She stops and looks down at her hands for a moment. Bucky doesn’t respond, just watches her, waits for her to continue because she has plenty more to say, he can sense it. He wonders what Steve has said to her to get her to come here.

“You’re not sure whether you trust me or maybe you’re not sure whether you can trust yourself anymore.” She pauses and looks at him. “Or perhaps you’re not sure whether you deserve any chance to be…happier.” Stops once more, glances away and frowns, worrying her bottom lip, drops her gaze to her hands again before she inhales, the act of filling her lungs seeming to strengthen her resolve as well as straighten her spine. Returns her attention to him.

“Y’know, after what happened to me, I didn’t want to let anyone close enough to me either and then I got so involved with the bar and the other stuff that it just didn’t matter, or at least I told myself that it didn’t. I thought it was safer, better for me to be by myself. I only trusted a small handful of people after the shooting, I still do.”

She watches as he begins to frown.

“You think you’ve got me all figured out don’t you?” Bucky’s voice is low, almost fierce in tone. She continues to watch him, her expression strangely unperturbed by this bolt of anger she’s getting from him.

“Steve seems to think that you’re worth taking a chance on,” she tells him, her voice low and any belligerence Bucky was beginning to feel, leaks away and he stares at her with wide surprised eyes. Then he blinks, looks away, shaking his head at the same time.

“Yeah well Steve always tries to see the best in me…” he mutters under his breath.

“Because he believes in you Bucky, he always has and I’m sure he always will,” she tells him in a quiet voice.

He doesn’t respond and the silence stretches uncomfortably between them. She looks at him, sees the indecision in his eyes, the battle he seems to waging with himself.

“Is this where you tell me that you’re not good for me or for anyone? That you’re best on _your_ own? Do you think that what you’re doing is being all brave and noble and that you’re actually doing me a favour?” She waits for him to answer. He just stares back at her obviously a little bewildered by her response.

“Because let me ask you one thing and then if you want me to then I’ll leave you alone. Why come back to see me after all this time? I can guess that you’re the type of guy who just doesn’t look back, that you keep moving forward no matter what. I can imagine that because of your circumstances you’ve had to, so what’s changed now, huh?”

“I told you, I was in the area….” he begins and his words fade away as she starts to shake her head.

“Maybe that’s what you keep telling yourself but after five years I don’t think that’s the reason do you? So try again.” She knows when an excuse is being made and she’s tired of his bullshit because that’s what all of this is. He sighs. Shrugs.

“I don’t know,” he admits and his expression becomes bleaker. “I just know that I’ve never forgotten you, not in all the time we were apart. You were kind to me Alex, given who I was, who I am and what I’ve done, you were always kind and it stuck with me.”

“So this has nothing at all to do with feelings beginning to emerge and that now you’re no longer on the run that you’re allowing yourself the possibility of feeling something else, something more, something above all of the dark stuff you went through. You’re telling me that I stuck with you because I was _kind_?” she enquires, eyes widening. She huffs out a sigh and slowly shakes her head.

“You know what…I don’t know why I thought coming here was a good idea. You told me that you wanted to see me again so I waited for you to return from your mission and get in touch. I waited and when a couple of days of silence passed, I began to realise that maybe you’d changed your mind. Until Steve showed up on my doorstep and he suggested that I come to you, thinking a face to face discussion would be better than a phone call but I dunno, maybe I should just…” She goes to get to her feet and almost in a panic Bucky reaches out and grabs her wrist and she stills and looks back at him.

“This is why I didn’t call you. I don’t know what the hell I’m doin’. I’ve thought about you a lot over the years and as time passed I got to wonderin’ if there was somethin’ more or if it was just my mind playin’ another trick on me. I like you Alex, I’m just not that good at puttin’ my cards on the table.” He lets go of her wrist as his voice lowers to a whisper and she hears the pain behind it, sees the anguish in his eyes at his confession. Her expression begins to soften at his stricken look. Their shared kiss wouldn’t have helped matters either.

“I like you too Bucky. We shared a kiss, that’s all. I don’t want you to put any expectations on yourself where I’m concerned. I don’t expect you to know what you’re doing because I don’t know what the hell I’m doing either. You’ve got a _lot_ of baggage, a lot more than anyone else I could mention. You want to explore this…I don’t know what to call it…”

“Attraction?” Bucky supplies and she glances his way, startled somewhat and then smiles faintly.

“Yeah…attraction. You want to explore it but at the same time you’re afraid. So am I. The old you would’ve known what to do, this version of you, doesn’t and it’s okay, neither do I. Maybe we could explore it together?”

She holds her breath and she waits.

Bucky swallows, drops his gaze as he feels his heart pulse in his chest at her words. Hears her quiet sigh and his eyes flick up to her face again.

“Do you trust me Bucky? Can you be honest with me about that? I can imagine you don’t trust all that many people.”

“I do trust you Alex, more than some folk,” he confesses, feeling his heart begin to rattle in his chest at the admission.

“And do you want me here, because if you don’t then I’ll go and we can forget this ever happened.”

She looks down when she feels his hand cover hers. Looks back into his eyes again.

“I want you here Alex. I do.”

Sees her lips tilt with the barest semblance of a smile. He knows that she doesn’t quite believe him, on the trust issue or the wanting her around part. Maybe he can change her mind.  

“Good.”

“But…”

She puts a finger over his mouth and she shakes her head.

“No, you don’t get to do that. You don’t get to try and scare me off by reminding me  what you did, what Hydra did to you, what they _made_ you do because I already know and I’m still here.”

She lowers her hand and just regards him steadily. “I’m still here,” she repeats.

Bucky stares at her for a moment and then slowly he lifts his right hand and after a brief hesitation, reaches out to her, fingertips brushing her cheek before sliding through her hair, watching the light coloured strands slip through his fingers. She remains absolutely still watching him. He moves closer to her on the bench, dips his head and presses a kiss on her mouth, a careful gentle pressure that’s so sweet that she feels her eyes slide shut, her heart bump in her chest at the tender contact. She lifts both hands as she leans into him, palms gently framing his face, fingertips coming into contact with stubble, warm skin. Feels her heart begin to flutter. He draws back and sees her eyes open and focus on his face once more.

“I want you here,” he murmurs to her and is rewarded by her soft smile. She lowers her hands, taking both of his.

“Then that’s a good place to start,” she whispers.

* * *

 

“How’s it going out there?”

Sam’s voice is loud in the room and it makes Steve flinch. He turns his upper body to look at him, his right hand clutched over his heart.

“Give a guy a little warning why don’t you?” he breathes and watches as Sam comes to stand beside him to look out of the window and he smiles when he sees Bucky and Alex walk across the lawn. Alex is talking and Bucky is listening to her, her hand resting in the crook of his right arm.

He grins.

“Damn. I was fully expecting there to be trouble.”

“You were hoping more like it. Alex isn’t like that. I mean she’s tough but she’s not…like that,” Steve answers, still watching them.

“Well you can quit watching over them like some kinda fairy godfather, they’re fine. She’s smiling at him, he’s _actually_ smiling at her and I don’t see any weapons so I think they’re good.” He slaps a hand on one broad shoulder.

Steve glances at him again.

“You think it’s a crazy idea getting her to come over here?”

Sam shrugs. “Maybe, maybe not. You also said you wouldn’t interfere and yet you did. Let’s wait and see shall we?”

Steve steps away from the window. Sighs.

“I kinda felt responsible, dragging him away from her when I did. I could see he wanted to call her, stared at that damned phone so hard that I thought it was gonna burst into flames.”

“Bucky isn’t your responsibility, not anymore,” Sam reminds him. Steve looks at him, his expression a little bit sad.

“Yeah he is, he always will be.”

“And he will tell you otherwise.”

“That’s true too. We’ve always looked out for each other but him not talkin’ to Alex was makin’ him miserable, I had to try somethin’.”

“He’s gonna kick your ass later, you know that don’t you?” Sam reminds him and watches a smile blossom across his face and grin in realisation.

“Wouldn’t be the first time he’s tried,” he confesses. “But I don’t regret it.”

Sam’s expression becomes somewhat softer at that admission.

“I know you don’t. Let’s get out of here, leave those two alone. I’m not about to babysit a super soldier assassin and his girl.”

“Never mind Bucky kicking my ass, I think he’s gonna kick yours if he hears you call him that.”

“What? Super Soldier assassin? Oh did I forget the ninja part? I did didn’t I? And he’s gonna have to _catch_ me first to kick my ass….”

Steve chuckles as he follows Sam out of the room, their conversation fading into the ether.

**END.**

 

 


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